


To Feel Infinity

by MusicalChick13



Category: To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Lara Jean is probably demisexual she just doesn't have the vocabulary to describe it, Sexuality Crisis, Sort Of, also she angsts over it a lot, that's literally all this fic is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalChick13/pseuds/MusicalChick13
Summary: She knows…why people experience sexual attraction. Primal instincts, certain chemicals. She had to sit through that awkward chapter in health class about What Happens to Your Body When You Get Older just like everyone else. It’s more…abstractly. Why, in the grand scheme of the universe, does she, Lara Jean Song Covey, specifically have to experience this? Why couldn’t she just be the way she was before, with no desire for anything seriously physical?





	To Feel Infinity

A lot of the romance novels she’s read say that love revelations happen-not at big, grandiose moments-but upon noticing a small, seemingly insignificant thing.

And as much as she’s trying to make her life less rooted in fantasy, that’s exactly how it happens.

She’s watching him play a lacrosse game, and when the clock runs out, they’re two points ahead. Some kids in the bleachers do that stupid thing they always do when the school wins, and blast “We Are the Champions” at an eardrum-breaking volume. And she sees him sing along (well, really, more _yell_ along), looking at her the whole time with a giant, dorky grin before winking at her when the song finishes, and that’s when she realizes she loves him.

She says it to his face about a week later, because it’s what she feels and he’s said it to her and he deserves to know. And he looks so _happy_ , so utterly flattered and _amazed_ that she would choose to love _him_ and admit it, that she wants to kiss him. Which she does.

But something about this is different. Yes, they’ve done this plenty of times before, for real and for fake, but somehow this feels…dirty. And Lara Jean can’t quite puzzle out what that means.

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because he drags her to a party that evening, and though the company is good, the music is awful.

There’s something blaring over the speakers by Maroon 5 or some other generic band she doesn’t care about. And there’s a line about “Going all the way” and she doesn’t know why, but she looks over at Peter. And as his eyes meet hers over the rim of his drink, she feels that strange _thing_ again. Her stomach clenches and it’s suddenly considerably harder to breathe. She feels…wrong, somehow. Almost nauseous.

So she excuses herself to the tiny, grey bathroom until she can breathe again.

“Hey, what’s up. You okay? You were in there a long time.”

“Yeah, just…” Lara Jean frowns. She doesn’t know _what_ this is. “It must have been something I ate,” she settles on. Because she can’t think of another explanation.

But when he offers to drive her home, threading his hand through hers, the anxious, borderline-sick feeling comes back.

She had stupidly thought that confessing her feelings for Peter on the lacrosse field months ago would end her confusion over their relationship. But obviously she was wrong.

That…isn’t a great feeling.

* * *

 

Sometimes Lara Jean forgets how _nice_ Peter is. From picking up the newest book release from her favorite author because he “happened to be at the bookstore” to consoling Kitty when she misses a few questions on a homework assignment she thought she’d understood to genuinely _listening_ to his friends and offering legitimately decent advice, Peter is…he’s so _good_.

The thought makes her feel pleasantly warm and considerably lighter.

_At least she’s made **one** good decision in the past year._

This happy feeling doesn’t last long, though, because, almost as if on cue, she sees him about fifteen feet down the hall while getting a textbook from her locker. He’s helping up some freshman who’s tripped and dropped his books, telling him not to be embarrassed, making sure he picks everything back up, and it’s just so…

… _Nice._

_Kind._

Almost involuntarily so, like he can’t _help_ but stick his neck out for this poor, unsuspecting fourteen-year-old in order to make his day a little easier.

And the pleasantly warm feeling engulfs her completely, and suddenly her brain is generating images of Peter kissing her in places he doesn’t usually kiss her.

The sick feeling from the party comes back and Lara Jean knows _exactly_ what it is now.

 _No no no no. This **can’t** be happening_.

She was currently on her period, though, right? That messed with your hormones. Surely it would go away by the time the week was over. Surely this was just some sort of mental disconnect.

Surely she wasn’t… _like that_.

It was probably just a one-time thing. A passing garbage thought that didn’t actually mean anything.

It couldn’t.

* * *

 

As she probably should have predicted, it doesn’t go away.

It seems like everything about Peter makes her nervous lately.

(Well, not nervous, exactly, but it’s the best word she has.)

When he holds her hand while walking down the hallway. When he quotes part of _Jane Eyre_ as they watch the newest movie version together to help with their report on the history of the book’s adaptations. When he looks at her with a vaguely smug smile after correctly answering a question in class, almost as if daring her to be impressed by him.

She can’t stop thinking about how attractive she finds him. It’s hard to breathe when he makes eye contact with her, and him accidentally brushing against her causes her to nearly jump out of her skin.

She watches _Titanic_ and, instead of Jack and Rose, she imagines herself and Peter during the infamous handprint scene.

It’s pointless to try and kid herself about what these weird feelings are anymore.

But naming the feeling doesn’t make her any more at peace with it. Wasn’t this supposed to be…fun? Liberating? Exciting?

Because having sexual feelings for someone…was not any of those things. It was confusing. And disgusting. And completely riddled with anxiety.

If this is what other teenagers feel, if this is what sex means, she hates it. She feels…disconnected from reality. Gross. Wrong. This isn’t a thing she feels. This isn’t who she is.

Except now it is.

She feels like she’s a completely different person, and not in a good way.

How did this even happen?! Nothing about their relationship had _ever_ verged on sexual. The closest it had come to that was the incident with the hot tub, and _nothing had even happened_.

This was stupid. It was all stupid. She was going to go watch a documentary about penguins.

* * *

 

She does not end up watching a documentary about penguins. She, instead, just stares at her computer screen, wondering where this all went wrong. How she had allowed herself to get to this place. To the point where a physical relationship didn’t seem like a big, theoretically impossible thing anymore.

So she falls back on old habits. She withdraws. Every time someone asks her about her boyfriend, she changes the subject. Every time he smiles at her in a particular way or talks about something she’s interested in, she makes up some excuse as to why she has to be elsewhere.

She feels awful, but she doesn’t know what to do. It’s not like she has anyone to talk to. Chris would think it was stupid that she was worrying about it, and any adult she trusted even a little bit would just judge her for having these feelings in the first place. Her dad had even told her _to her face_ he thought she was too young to be thinking about sex.

And Margot…oh, God, what if she hated her? Her image of Lara Jean as a decent human being, her innocent little sister, all of that would be ruined. Their relationship would be _actually_ wrecked, this time.

And _God_ knows she wasn’t going to talk to Peter about this. What if he hated her too? Decided to stop dating her because she was…

… _Dirty_.

And if she was worried before about people _thinking_ she’d had sex with Peter, she couldn’t _imagine_ what would happen if they somehow found out the truth.

The word “disgusting” lodges itself in her brain, and it soon becomes the only thing she can think of to describe herself.

She wants to stand under a scalding hot shower and scrub off her skin with the pumice soap Josh uses in shop class.

But, somehow, she doesn’t think that’ll help.

* * *

 

“So,” Margot says conspiratorially over video chat, “Anything new?”

_Yeah, she’s realized there was a whole other part of her life she didn’t know about and she feels extremely terrified of it at all times._

“No, nothing much. We finished _Jane Eyre_ in English class. I really liked it.”

“Yeah, I really liked that one, too. You know what else I liked? _Brave New World_. But you won’t read that until next year.”

“Cool.”

“Although, you might not like that one as much. It might make you uncomfortable, there’s a _lot_ of sexual references in it.”

_See, this is why she couldn’t tell her sister. She had a reputation. Margot knew her as a certain type of person and if that perception changed, their relationship would change. And Lara Jean would rather give up Sixteen Candles than give up Margot._

So she just says, “Maybe not so cool, then.”

And Margot laughs, talks about her roommate and a party they both went to.

Lara Jean can’t even bring herself to pay attention.

* * *

 

She misses an assignment because she forgets to write it down in her planner. In almost twelve years of school, that’s never happened, but this is apparently who she is now.

It seems like she’s distracted all the time. Too focused on how to deal with _all of **this**_ that her brain doesn’t want to make space for anything else.

She watches a movie she loves and doesn’t even bother quoting the dialogue. She studies for a test almost on autopilot. Every conversation with her dad or her younger sister is a constant fight to stay engaged. She doesn’t know what’s happening to her.

Well…she knows _what’s_ happening to her. She just doesn’t know _why_.

So she takes to the Internet. Because this is going to have to go away sooner or later. She can’t keep doing this. Living like this.

“Why do I have sexual feelings?”

All she finds are articles explaining what puberty is and some religious tracts talking about how you need to “fight temptation,” which is all well and good for people who find it useful, but that’s _really_ not going to help her right now.

She knows… _why_ people experience sexual attraction. Primal instincts, certain chemicals. She had to sit through that awkward chapter in health class about What Happens to Your Body When You Get Older just like everyone else. It’s more…abstractly. Why, in the grand scheme of the universe, does she, Lara Jean Song Covey, specifically _have_ to experience this? Why couldn’t she just be the way she was before, with no desire for anything seriously physical?

Why did whoever was in charge of the planet _give_ her these impulses in the first place?

But everything she finds involves people saying that it “makes her human” and that she should consider it a positive personal development. That sex is great and being able to enjoy it is even greater.

Which, again, doesn’t help. She highly doubts the ability to have sex is any kind of cornerstone of being human. There are lots of different ways to be human. Sex is just…a thing people do. And, sure, whatever, it feels great, apparently. Well, not to her. This feels awful. And it’s going to _keep_ feeling awful because the more she searches, the farther away she gets from finding any answers.

After having personal love letters sent out to boys and getting into a fake relationship like something literally out of a romance novel, Lara Jean had assumed she’d seen everything, but apparently not.

And there wasn’t a single person she could talk to. Not Margot, whose opinion of her would change. Not Chris, who would probably laugh or tell her to stop being so overdramatic. Not Peter, _absolutely_ not. Their whole relationship would be different afterwards, and she can’t stand the thought of that. Not when they were doing so well.

_Not when she had been so happy._

Why did this have to happen at all? She wished she could cut these feelings out of her brain or suck them out through a vacuum but leave all the other stuff. But those procedures haven’t been invented yet, so she’ll have to figure something else out.

 _If you even can_ , the more cynical part of her brain mutters. And Lara Jean is so exhausted, so full of self-doubt and fear, that she lets those four words beat themselves into her subconscious until she goes to bed, two hours later than usual, sleep uneasy in a way it hasn’t been since she discovered her letters had been mailed out.

_Way to screw things up, Lara Jean. You seem to be really good at that._

* * *

 

Somewhere along the line, she gets the _brilliant_ idea that if she can prove her particular feelings for Peter are reciprocated, they’ll go away.

The trouble is, she has no idea how to know that without talking about it. Which is, of course, out of the question.

But maybe she can gauge his reaction by acting…flirty. Well, maybe not flirty, but her mind refuses to use the word “seductive” in this case.

She wears a skirt one day, one short enough that it draws attention, but just long enough to technically be within the school dress code.

When Chris asks what’s up with the wardrobe change, she makes some excuse that the weather is warmer and that everything else was in the laundry, which seems to placate her friend.

Peter, however…“Lara Jean Covey. In a skirt. Alert the presses.”

She chuckles, against all better judgment. “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I dunno, it’s fairly out of character for you. I didn’t even know you _owned_ something like that.”

And suddenly, she questions this whole operation, panic sliding its cold fingers around her throat before squeezing with abandon. “What, you don’t like it??”

“No, I just…wear whatever you want. It’s just…”

“What?”

“You don’t _need_ to do that.”

“I know. I’m not…I’m not wearing this for you, Peter.”

_Well, she sort of **was** , but that was beside the point._

“No! I didn’t mean…Never mind.”

“No, what did you want to say?” It seems like she’s been itching for an argument, lately, given how irritable she is.

 _Or maybe it’s just because she’s mad at herself. For being so…basic._ _For losing the part of her innocence she had held dear all these years._

_Because regardless of whatever else happened, she could at least tell herself that she would never stoop **that** low. To view a person in such a gross way. To succumb to a ridiculous social pressure that seemed to be **everywhere** people talked about relationships._

“You’ve…I dunno, you haven’t been yourself for the past few days. You seem really jumpy. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going through an identity crisis or something.”

“No, just…trying something new.” She forces a smile onto her face and Peter seems to accept it.

“Then…wear away, I guess.” His smile is a mirror of hers-small, taut, unconvincing. But he seems to recognize that she doesn’t want to talk about it, and turns around to go to his science class.

 _Well, that was entirely unhelpful_. Instead of having a positive response, Peter was _worried_ about her because he thought this behavior was _weird_.

So she tries again. This time, at lunch.

She picks up a banana and, when she can see that he’s looking out of the corner of her eye, unpeels it slowly and takes a tender, yet slightly toothy bite out of it, like she’s occasionally seen Gen do in the past, to get some guy or another’s attention.  

_Apparently this was supposed to be “sexy.”_

She doesn’t know why she’s doing this. The thinks that maybe if she gives in a little bit-acts on it-it’ll go away. Kind of like how scratching the edges of an insect bite helps the actual central itching go down.

But all that happens is she gets banana mashed around the corners of her mouth, and the tip of the banana she’d bit off falls through the gap of her lips because she has _no idea_ what she’s doing.

A quick glance around shows that no one else saw this save Peter, so she plays it off as a stupid attempt to be funny, which, when her curiosity finally gets the better of her and she meets Peter’s eyes, he falls for, if the puzzled-yet-amused expression on his face is of any indication.

For fear of humiliating herself further, Lara Jean decides to give up this line of approach.

_Looks like she’ll have to figure out another way of getting rid of these feelings._

* * *

 

They’re watching one of the movie versions of _Romeo and Juliet_ , one they all had to get their parents’ permission to watch because it’s rated R and there are some…scenes of a sensitive nature in it.

Lara Jean wonders idly why they couldn’t just watch an edited version or why they even have to watch the movie at all when they’re already reading the play.

But she doesn’t teach this class, so she’s stuck here.

English is one of the classes she shares with Peter. She’s bored out of her skull-obviously these people don’t really understand the text and are, as with every adaptation, playing up the romantic angle instead of focusing on the true point of the play (pointless feuds ruin lives, and all of this could have been avoided if people had just _communicated_ properly and forgiven each other). Her eyes, involuntarily, drift toward her boyfriend, who has the same glazed-over look she’s sure is displayed on her face.

And then the morning-after-the-consummation scene happens. And this version of the scene ends in them reengaging in the previous night’s activities. It’s very tame. Barely any nudity, really almost no overt sexual content, but it’s there, and it’s…impossible to _not_ to be hyperaware of it.

There are several titters from the students, one of whom whispers a crass comment that receives a death glare and promise of detention from their teacher, but, ultimately, it’s less uncomfortable than Lara Jean would have otherwise assumed.

That is, until she realizes that Peter is now returning her gaze and looking right at her.

She had been so deep in thought, she’d forgotten she was staring. And now they were making _very_ intense eye contact while two characters onscreen were having sex, and Lara Jean feels like her skin is on fire.

Trying to will herself to look away, she shifts in her chair, tries to think of some paper she can reasonably retrieve from her binder. She grabs onto the sides of her chair until her knuckles are white. But she still can’t break Peter’s gaze.

The woman playing Juliet makes a soft groaning noise onscreen, and Lara Jean feels overwhelmed. The _feeling_ that has been following her around these past few weeks reaches an all-time high, and she feels like she might be on the verge of a panic attack.

She can’t deal with this. She can’t.

So her brain dissociates for the rest of class. And the rest of the day. She doesn’t even take notes in Pre-Cal. The only thing she thinks about is what happened in English class.

When she gets home that afternoon, she immediately curls up into a fetal position on her bed and just _cries_.

Why is she such a disgusting human being? Why did this have to happen to her? Shame burns every corner of her body, and she doesn’t know how she’s ever going to have enough emotional bandwidth to feel anything else.

 _I’m broken_. She thinks. _There’s something wrong with me_.

And she lays there until it’s time to get up for school the next morning.

She barely sleeps.

* * *

 

The weather soon warms up enough for one of Peter’s friends to throw the first pool party of the year. Lara Jean accepts the invitation absentmindedly during lunch, knowing she’ll be expected to go with her boyfriend and, well, she’s already doing everything on autopilot anyway.

“Is the weather hot enough for that, yet?” she asks Peter as they walk to class, hoping this small talk will be innocuous enough for her to make the trip to their next class without any _feelings_ springing up.

“Ah, I don’t know. But even if it’s not, you’ll be there, so I’m not too worried.” This is followed by a joking wink at her that makes her stomach flutter.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Braving potentially bad weather just to spend time with me.”

He looks at her quizzically. “I mean…of course I’m happy to be spending time with you, but I was trying to say that you’re hot.”

Lara Jean is very glad she does not have any sort of drink in her mouth because she would have spit it out involuntarily and feel even more embarrassed than she does now.

“Oh. My bad. Sorry. Oblivious.” And she laughs it off, a silly joke, a harmless flirty comment.

But she feels…well, she doesn’t even need to say how she feels. It’s how she’s felt since this whole thing began and she realized she had the capacity for sexual attraction. Funny. Nauseous. Out-of-breath. _Ashamed_. Not on behalf of his behavior, but for the fact that she’s responding so intensely from a relatively tame comment.

And when the day finally comes that weekend, she meets him at his friend’s house, and he’s smiling at her like she’s the best thing in the world, like he’s so happy to be here with _her_ that she almost just turns around and runs.

Because knowing she was different than she thought was one thing. But letting someone in this much, to the point where they look at you like that? Where you _want_ them to look at you like that for as long as humanly possible? That was outright _terrifying_.

But she doesn’t want to hurt him, so she plasters what she hopes is a convincing grin on her face.

She aimlessly wanders around until she finds the snack table, picking up a glass of lemonade, and suddenly she’s being joined by Peter, who now doesn’t have a shirt on and NO SHE DIDN’T EVEN THINK OF THAT.

She had been so preoccupied with getting through the day unscathed that she completely forgot that… _that_ would be a thing she’d have to deal with.

Her eyes dip down to his torso briefly, and she swallows thickly. This is bad. This is very, _very_ bad.

“Um…I have to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

She splashes cold water on her face, digs her nails into her palms, does everything she can to get the picture of shirtless Peter out of her mind, but it’s stuck in there. To the point where it probably won’t ever come out.

Yeah, she’s seen him without a shirt before. But not…not since before all of this started happening. Before she realized she was a completely different person than she thought.

She had to do something.

…She didn’t know what, but she _had._ To do **_something._**

But before she can think of a plan, he finds her in the empty hallway outside the bathroom. “Hey, you okay? You were in there for a long time.”

“Yeah, just…got lost in thought, I guess.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I don’t know, random stuff. I think I heard Chris’s car, I’m going to go talk to her.” And she turns to leave; she has to get out of here. His hand looks like it’s inches away from grabbing her wrist, and she knows she won’t be able to handle that in her current state.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Oh, no. Had she really been that obvious? Now he’ll want to know why, and she would rather slam her head against a wall repeatedly than have that conversation with him.

“What? No.” Even she can tell it’s a poor attempt at lying.

“Look, you’ve been really distant lately, and I just want to make sure everything’s all right.”

“It’s fine, Peter. Really. I’m just kind of out of it.”

“No, I know you when you’re ‘out of it.’ You don’t act like this. You don’t intentionally isolate yourself or forget assignments or give me weird looks when you think I don’t notice. The last time I came over you didn’t even want to watch _Sixteen Candles_ , that’s not you ‘being out of it.’ ”

“Look, Peter, there’s just a think I’m dealing with, you don’t need to worry about it.”

“I _am_ worried about it. I’m worried about you! Why won’t you talk to me.” His eyes meet hers, and the expression on his face is so earnest it almost looks like he’s begging her for something. What, she doesn’t know. But it makes her heart hurt that he feels this worried because of _her_. Because of something so _stupid_. “Did I do something?”

She doesn’t have to lie when she replies, “No. No, Peter, I promise you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why have you been acting so… _different_ …lately?”

And something in her snaps. It was one thing to feel like she was an entirely different person because of…everything. But there was some part of her, deep in the back of her brain, that clung to the hope that she was just making things up. That she wasn’t different. That she was still the same person just with a new feeling. But hearing him say that…it’s not his fault, but it hurts. And Lara Jean is so tired of hurting because of this. “Yeah, well, people change, okay?!”

“Whoa. Don’t…don’t get mad at me. I’m just trying to find out what’s going on. I’m not going to make you talk about it, but I think you oughta tell someone, whatever it is.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Look, Lara Jean, I—”

“ _Peter, let it GO.”_

He looks shocked. And while normally the context of that facial expression would be her making some smart comment or having a hidden talent for something or turning out to like some obscure TV show Peter also liked, here it’s born from...what looks like gloominess. She hates it, and she hates that she’s responsible for it. But she doesn’t know how to have this conversation, so she’ll push him away. Because she doesn’t want to lose him, and if she tells him what’s happening, she definitely will.

Luckily, she doesn’t need to do anything else at the moment, because he says, “Okay, I think you need to be left alone.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Okay. How long do you want me to leave you alone for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Twenty minutes? A day? Two weeks? Forever?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you…have a ballpark idea?”

The shame and fear have now skipped straight into irritation. Because her body has exhausted all of the other possible feelings, apparently. And she is far too wound up to still be having a serious discussion with him.

“No, Peter, I don’t know _anything_ anymore.”

“What do you mean…by that..?”

“ _It means it might be forever_.”

“Forev—why? What happened? _What’s wrong_.”

“I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!”

And he looks so gutted, Lara Jean thinks it would have hurt him less to hit him over the head with a cinderblock. “Can’t do what.”

“I like you too much!!” The words fly out of her mouth before she even has a chance to _think_ them. This is why she hates arguing with people. Too many private thoughts come out.

“What the heck does that mean.”

“It means that I can’t deal with you calling me hot or walking around shirtless or winking at me or looking at me during the… _scenes_ in _Romeo and Juliet_!” _And the words just keep coming. **God** , what is **wrong** with her??_

Understanding begins to dawn on his face, and Lara Jean immediately regrets everything she has ever said to him because it all brought her to this moment.

“I…I’m so sorry, I didn’t know all of that was coming across like that to you. You know that I don’t expect us to have sex, I’m so sorry if you felt like I was pressuring you.”

“I know you’re not pressuring me!! It just makes me feel really…weird.”

“Then I’ll stop! We don’t have to do _anything_. I know stuff like that is a big deal for you.”

“Yeah, well _YOU’RE_ a big deal!” And there it is. Out in the open. Hanging between them so thickly it’s impossible to wave it away and pretend it didn’t happen. She hopes he knows what she means so she doesn’t have to explain it because she thinks that might honestly end her.

“… _Oh_.

I didn’t know you…wanted that.”

On second thought, Lara Jean almost wishes she’d had to explain it herself because hearing him say it, she feels like she could literally die. They shouldn’t be talking about this, she doesn’t _want_ to talk about this, she just wants to go back to how she felt on the night of that lacrosse game-just a young, innocent girl in love with a great guy.

“I don’t…I mean, I do, but…I didn’t know how to tell you that.”

“Well…you could have just told me. The fact that you’ve been acting all weird trying to avoid talking about it suggests that you…aren’t actually ready to do that.”

“I’m just…” she starts. Because she wants this to go away. This constant feeling of stress, this knowledge that she has a whole other part of her life to navigate, this realization that she is, indeed like everyone else, but in the worst possible way.

But you don’t talk about this. No one is _supposed_ to talk about this. Especially not to the person you actually have those feelings toward.

“You’re just what?”

“Nothing.”

“ _Covey_ …” The open and gentle way he looks at her and the slight not-really-scolding of his voice make her believe not only that he wants to help, but almost that he might actually be able to.

But she doesn’t have time to reflect on that or decide what to do in response, because her brain apparently can’t hold the words in anymore. “I’m just so _embarrassed_.”

“Embarrassed?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“What…is…? Wait, do you have, like, a foot fetish or something? Because that’s totally fine I really don’t care what kind of stuff you might be int—”

“No, it’s not anything like that.”

“It’s embarrassing…” His face falls and his air of natural confidence seems to leak out of his body, “…Wanting to have sex with me specifically?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“SEX. SEX IS EMBARRASSING.” And she claps two hands over her mouth. She’s already said _waaay_ too much, and the confused look on Peter’s face tells her she should leave absolutely immediately. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand—”

“No, talk to me. Why do you think sex is embarrassing?”

“Because there’s no _point!_ What does it do? It makes people feel good. Okay? I feel good drinking yogurt smoothies or watching _Sixteen Candles_ or reading a book!!”

“I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“What do you get out of it?”

“You…it’s hard to explain. But if you really don’t want to have sex, we don’t have to have sex. I’m never going to expect that from you.”

“But I _do_ want to! That’s the problem!!!!!”

“Okay. Even if you think it’s pointless, lots of people like a lot of pointless things. Like…Oh, I watch Celebrity Big Brother sometimes because it’s so incredibly stupid. But you don’t judge me for that.”

“I mean…I watch that, too. We’ve watched it together. Sometimes I just need to watch something silly and turn my brain off.”

“Yeah! See? And if you tried hard enough, you could argue that anything’s pointless. You even just said yourself you can see the value in pointless things. So what makes _this_ pointless thing so different?”

“Because.”

“Because…?”

“Because it just is.”

“Look, if you really don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. But you should at least admit to yourself that there’s something else going on.”

She wants to go home. Bury herself in several pillows. Maybe also some ice cream.

Okay a _lot_ of ice cream.

But…a part of her does feel better. Finally letting someone know what’s been bothering her all this time. Having a mature conversation about it with someone who doesn’t judge her. Who listens to her.

She’s always been able to talk to him. That’s part of why she loves him.

And so Lara Jean Covey takes one more step on her journey of no longer being invisible.

“It’s all just…dangerous.” 

“I’m sorry…Dang…erous?” Her poor boyfriend looks genuinely perplexed. Almost upset with himself that he doesn’t understand even a little bit of what she’s trying to say. She really wishes he could read her mind right now because _wow_ this is _really hard_.

“I see the stupid things people do for sex, Peter. I see all the scary horny trolls on the Internet, I see catcalling _all_ the time, I see how creepy guys look at my sister sometimes…It’s… _gross._ I hear people talking in the halls about they want this person to do this thing to them, not even considering that maybe the other person doesn’t want to! There are people all over the place who just…pretend to be someone they aren’t or harass people or creep on them or do whatever it is they do just because they have sex-related feelings! I don’t want to be like that.”

“Oh, Lara Jean. You are _not_ going to turn into that.”

At this point, she can feel tears welling up behind her eyes because he can’t just _say_ that. He can’t see the future. He doesn’t understand. Afraid her voice will crack, she whispers, almost inaudibly, “How do you know?”

“Because that’s not who you are.”

“Maybe it is! I’ve never dealt with this before, no one has ever _seen_ me deal with this before, no one has any idea how I’m going to react to it.”

“Not even you?”

She knows where he’s going with this. And he’s such a good guy. For trying, for listening, for being him. But he doesn’t get it and he’s probably not going to, so she just stays silent.

“Why are you so sure that’s what’s going to happen?”

(Okay, so staying silent doesn’t last particularly long.) “I see how people our age talk about sex. That’s just…what it seems to do to people.” She looks down at the ground, and on the edge of her vision, she sees Peter’s face twist into what’s probably concentration but she can’t really tell.

After a little while, he speaks again. “Let me ask you something. Have you ever wanted to punch someone in the face?”

“What does that have to do with—”

“It’s related. Just answer the question.”

“I…yeah. I think everyone has.”

“Did you ever actually punch anyone in the face?”

“No!”

“So just because you had an uncomfortable feeling…doesn’t automatically mean you had to act on it. Right?”

“I guess.”

“So even though you have sexual feelings, you also have the choice of never doing anything about them.”

“That’s true. But…” She trails off. She’s already bared so much of her soul and talked about so many of her feelings and this is _exhausting_ , how do people do this?

“But…?” Peter gently prods.

“I’m not supposed to _have_ those feelings in the first place!”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because they’re _wrong_.” And suddenly she can’t hold back tears anymore. If she weren’t feeling so many other things, she might be embarrassed about that, but she can’t really bring herself to care.

Peter looks like he wants to give her a hug, or wipe the tears that are now running down her face and ruining her mascara. Or buy her a puppy.  

“Look, you don’t have to do this.”

“No, no. I want to. I’m not going to just leave you when you’re upset.”

And she smiles a little at that.

_She picked a really good one, didn’t she?_

“Do you want anything? Water, a blanket, a hug?”

“No, I’m…I’m good. Thanks. I just…I think I need to keep talking about this.”

“Okay. We can do that. I don’t have to be anywhere.”

The slightly lopsided smile he gives her causes that…stirring thing in her chest again. It’s really hard to make words decently when it’s there, and, in her mind, she practically _begs_ Peter to say something first.

“So…why do you think it’s wrong?”

_Oh. Right. That’s what they had been talking about. Yeah._

_She can do this._

“I don’t know. I guess…it feels like I’m objectifying you. Like I’m not…liking you for your personality. I feel…shallow.”

“Wait, you feel guilty…because you think I’m hot?”

“It sounds so stupid when you put it like that.”

“No, it’s not stupid, I’m just…trying to understand. I want you to be okay, and if this is a problem for you, I want to help you work through it.”

_Ugh, he’s so **nice**. _

“It’s just…it feels like I’m…like I’m not seeing you for _you_. Like my brain is just…looking at you as an attractive person to have sex with. And I’m scared of that becoming the main thing I think about you. Because…you’re so many other great things, and I love you.

“Lara Jean, you are the _last_ person I would worry about objectifying me.”

“Yeah, maybe _now_. But you don’t know what’s going to happen later—”

“And neither do you.”

“Look, you’ve already tried to make that point. That doesn’t…it won’t help anything.”

“Well, I am glad that you find me attractive.”

“This isn’t a joke, Peter.”

“No, I know. I’m…genuinely glad that you find me attractive. Like…I know you wouldn’t be with me if you didn’t like me. But it’s…kind of nice, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

And in the spirit of being brave, she takes the plunge and asks, “Do you…feel that way about me?”

“I mean…yeah, I do. I have for a while. Because you’re smart and pretty and nice and you stand up for yourself and you have such a great relationship with your family.” His face falls and he looks like he wants to retreat in on himself. “Does that…freak you out?”

She thinks it over. “No. I feel…good. Flattered?”

“So…you don’t think _I’m_ being creepy by feeling like that?”

“No.”

“So why do you think _you_ are?”

Lara Jean blinks rapidly a few times before starting down at her shoes.

 _The ones Peter really likes_ …a distant part of her brain supplies.

She genuinely hadn’t thought about that. She doesn’t have an answer.

And suddenly, everything changes.

(Well, not everything. Something. It’ll be a long time before she’s finally okay with this part of herself. But now she has a baseline for non-threatening sexual attraction and that…really helps.)

“That…Peter…you’re right.”

_One of the best people she knew felt this way. One of the best people she knew felt this way **about her**. And he wasn’t terrible. Maybe…_

_Maybe she wasn’t, either._

“Yeah, that _is_ known to happen.”

 “That…makes so much more sense that whatever my brain was trying to do. Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s what I’m here for. You can always talk to me. Okay?’

She smiles softly, knowing her eyes are probably doing that stupid, gooey, lovesick thing they like to do when she looks at him. “Yeah. I know.”

* * *

 

Something else changes a few days later, when Chris is in Lara Jean’s living room, helping her study for an English test. (Well, really Lara Jean is helping _her_ study, but she’ll leave Chris her pride this time.)

"Hey, could you hand me textbook?"

"...Lara Jean."

"Huh?" She stutters, shaking herself out of the zoned-out place her mind has been tending to wander to, lately.

"Textbook?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes. Chris obviously senses that _something_ is wrong, and Lara Jean sends up a silent prayer that she won't ask.

"Hey, I was wondering..."

_Great. So much for faith helping you through troubling times._

"You were wondering what?" _  
_

“Nothing, it’s just…you’ve been acting kinda weird, lately. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, I’m just…on my period.”

“Uhn uh. You used that excuse last week.”

“Chris, I’m fine.”

“Right.”

She couldn’t tell her. Chris would think it was no big deal-she had lost her virginity at 15 to a music scene friend at an EDM concert. The whole thing happened with such minimal fanfare that Lara Jean didn’t even know about it until Chris made an offhand remark two weeks later.

Sex wasn’t a big deal to Chris. It seemed it wasn’t a big deal to everyone except her.

“Is it Peter?”

“Drop it, Chris.”

“Oh, so it _is_ Peter. What did he do, is he being an ass?” Chris looks like she’s ready to fight someone. She probably is. Lara Jean might chuckle wryly at that if she were in a better mood.

“No, I—he—look it’s me, I’m the problem.”

“I’m _sure_ that’s not true.”

“It is.”

Chris’s face is suddenly serious in a way it normally isn’t. It’s almost unsettling. “Come on, talk to me.”

“I’d _really_ like to _not_ do that.”

“Okay. I’m just saying, it might make you feel better. I’m not going to judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Look, I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

“All right. I’m here if you do, though.”

“Fine. Whatever.” This comes out with considerably more bite than Lara Jean had intended, but she can’t even find the emotional space to feel bad about it.

“Okay, you know what, if you’re just going to disrespect my attempts at being a good friend, then I don’t want to talk to you.”

 _Well… apparently she **can** find the emotional space to feel bad about it_. “You’re…” she sighs, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just…dealing with a lot.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in awkward silence for a few moments before Chris pipes up, “So, it has something to do with Peter, and you said you think you’re the problem, so…it’s not one of you saying ‘I love you’ and the other not saying back, because he told you on the lacrosse field and you told me you said it to him a few weeks ago…”

“Chris…” there’s an edge of warning in Lara Jean’s voice that isn’t normally there. She knows Chris. Chris is smart and surprisingly worldly for a seventeen-year-old. It’s only a matter of time before she guesses what’s going on, and Lara Jean is _not_ ready for that.

“So, what would be so embarrassing that you wouldn’t want to talk about it to m—” Lara Jean almost swears a lightbulb materializes out of thin air to turn on above Chris’s head, “You don’t want to have sex with him and he does.”

Lara Jean has got to get better at filtering her facial expressions because Chris looks at her for two seconds, raises both of her eyebrows and says, “You _do_ want to have sex with him?”

She wants to cry. She won’t, because she’d like to think she has more self-control than that, but she really, _really_ wants to.

“Hey, you don’t have to feel bad about this. It’s okay.”

“NO it’s NOT.” And she’s on the edge of screaming now, because feeling angry about it is easier than feeling sad. She’s been sad and ashamed so much, she just doesn’t want to feel those things anymore. And maybe talking to Peter helped, but it didn’t magically make all of her issues go away. She knew she could count on Peter to still love her, but she didn’t have that guarantee with anyone else in her life. And she couldn’t _just_ talk to Peter. She needed to have friends. And a family. People outside of her romantic relationship.

“No, it’s not,” she says again, much more calmly. Because Chris deserves for her best friend to not yell at her over something that’s her own problem.

“Are you worried that it makes you a horrible person? Because it doesn’t.”

 _Well, it seems like there’s no getting out of this conversation, so she might as well be honest._ “I want to believe that.”

“Well, you _should._ Like…Gen? Horrible person. You’re never going to be like her.”

She chuckles a little at that, in spite of herself.

“Seriously. I wouldn’t be your friend if you sucked as a person.”

“Yeah, I know that, I just…don’t _know that_. If that makes sense.”

“Do you judge _me_? I’ve had sex.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s…more complicated than that.”

“Why?”

“Because my whole life people have been telling me that this is such a great thing, that you can’t have a good, healthy relationship without it. That it’s necessary to date someone. And I was so convinced they were wrong, but now I’m…just proving them right.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Yes I am! I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“No, listen to me. You’re not proving them right. You’re not proving anything.”

“What do you mean.” She had no time for this. She didn’t know what she wanted. Maybe a part of her wanted Chris to tell her she was terrible and disgusting and unworthy of being her friend. Because in spite of her fear of people leaving her, right now all she wants is for someone to see what she sees. Because she feels so broken and alone and sad. And she hates feeling all of those things.

“You said you want to prove that you can’t have a healthy relationship without sex, but you’re already doing that. You and Peter are happy, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t need to have sex to get to that point.”

“No…”

“Okay, so…you already _have_ a healthy relationship without sex. You’ve already proven your point.”

“No, I haven’t! Not if I end up having and acting on sexual feelings anyway. If it’s a thing I want, then I’m proving that it makes my relationship better, which is exactly the thing I’m trying to disprove!!” _Ugh, why didn’t she **understand**?_

Chris looks thoughtful. Her eyes are doing that squint-y thing they do when she’s concentrating, her eyebrows curling closer together. It’s been a good thirty seconds and she hasn’t said anything. Lara Jean wonders what she could possibly be mulling over so thoroughly.

“Let me ask you a question: if you, for some reason, could never have those yogurt smoothies you like again, would you die?”

“What?” She had no idea what she had been expecting, but that _certainly_ wasn’t it.

“I mean, if you had to give up the yogurt smoothies forever, how would you feel?”

“Chris, I don’t see—”

“Just answer the question.”

Lara Jean sighs. (She’s been doing a lot of that lately.) “I guess…I would be upset? But I’d get over it, it’s just yogurt, regardless of how much I like it. There’s enough other good stuff in my life that it wouldn’t cause me to lose my will to live or anything.”

A smug, knowing expression stretches across Chris’s face while Lara Jean says all of this. “So…?” she prods, a bit too enigmatically for Lara Jean’s liking.

“So what?”

“So, you want this thing, but could reasonably live without it without it ruining your life. You think it makes your life better, but you don’t _need_ it.”

_Oh… **Now** she gets it._

“You think sex is the same way.”

“It _is_ the same way.”

“I don’t think sex is the same thing as yogurt.”

“Oh, my God, okay look. If your relationship with Peter stayed exactly the same, and you never had sex, would you be happy?”

“Of course! I love our relationship the way it is now, that’s why I’m so upset!!!”

“And he would be perfectly fine never having sex with you.”

“Yes. I’m positive.”

“So what I’m hearing is that sex is a thing that would be nice for you to have, but it’s not this huge thing that you _absolutely have to have right now or bad things will happen_. Like how yogurt smoothies are great, but you don’t need them. Or you don’t _need_ for your dad to win the lottery. Or to get an A on every single assignment. Or get a full ride scholarship to Harvard. Or to read every single romance novel in existence. That you can…you’ll still be happy without all those things, but you wouldn’t complain about them happening.”

“Do you really think so?”

“ _Yes, I do._ Because you know why? Wanting to have sex? Just means that it’s a thing you want. That’s it. That’s all it means. It’s not some sort of commentary on relationships or proof of anything. It literally just means that you found something you think you might enjoy.”

Lara Jean looks down at the ground, for what feels like the millionth time in recent memory. As terrible as she is at assuming good will come out of a given situation, something a little bit like logic flitters through her brain, followed by something that feels suspiciously like hope. Extremely fragile hope, but still hope.

“I never thought of it that way.”

Her friend flashes a small smile. “I know physical stuff is a big deal to you. But it doesn’t have to be the biggest deal in the whole world.”

“That…that makes sense.”

“You better?”

“A little.”

“Do you want to talk about something el—”

“Yes please.”

Chris responds with a friendly chuckle-one that makes Lara Jean genuinely _glad_ for the first time in what feels like a very long time and extremely grateful for her good luck at picking people to spend her time with. “Okay. Cool. We can do that.”

* * *

 

There is, of course, one more loose thread in this whole thing.

And by that, she means Margot.

She’s going to have to tell her sometime, she can’t hide forever.

She already tried that once.

And, if she’s honest with herself (which she really, _really_ tries to be), she doesn’t want to worry about it anymore. If Margot’s going to judge her, she’d rather it just hurry up and happen, instead of spending the rest of her life agonizing over “What Would Margot Think.”

“Hey!” Her sister greets brightly, video chat, for once, having a clear signal.

“Hey.” Lara Jean shoots back a tense smile. “I…have something I want to talk to you about.”

“Sure, go ahead. Is everything okay?”

“Mostly? It’s nothing bad. I mean, it feels like it is, but, you know, it’s not really a big deal…”

“Lara Jean, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. What is it? What’s wrong? If it’s bothering you, it’s obviously a pretty big deal—”

“I LIKE PETER.”

“…Um…yeah. I know. He’s your boyfriend.”

“No, I…I _like_ him, like…I like the way he looks, Iwanttohavesexwithhim.”

“…Oh.”

“Do you hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?” Margot looks so absolutely astounded, you’d think this question is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

“Because I just…our whole lives we were taught that these feelings are bad and that they make you irresponsible and gross and, I don’t know, morally corrupted, and just…”

“Just what?”

“…Dirty,” Lara Jean whispers, no longer able to keep her eyes on her computer, floating instead to the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ on her dresser.

_The older she gets, the more she realizes she is completely unlike Elizabeth Bennett in every conceivable way. She didn’t even **like** the guy she ended up marrying, and their courtship was completely chaste while it lasted._

_Sometimes Lara Jean thinks it would be easier to be a character in one of these novels-for everything to work out neatly and to be able to erase her mistakes with a few well-placed words or the scratch of an eraser._

“Lara Jean?” Margot asks, concerned. Thoughtful. Responsible. Always the caring sister.

“Yeah, sorry. Got…distracted.”

“So, first of all, I could never hate you. And second of all, this doesn’t make you a bad person. Or…dirty or anything.”

“I want to believe that. And I…I think I almost do, it’s just…hard.”

“Look, I know it’s hard to unlearn everything you grew up thinking. It…certainly was for me. That’s why I think college will be really good for you. It’ll give you time to really consider what you believe. Really come into yourself.”

“That sounds…nice.”

“It is, yeah.”

“I just…it feels like all of the characters I relate to, all of the stories I like, all of the people I look up to just…don’t deal with this. They don’t have sex, they don’t _want_ to have sex, and they just don’t ever think about it at all. All of the healthy relationships I knew of didn’t involve sex.”

An expression of sympathetic understanding stretches across Margot’s face, before widening her eyes into that Look that Lara Jean knows means some sort of life-altering information is about to come out.

“Josh and I had sex.”

Lara Jean almost feels her face fall off. “You…you did?!”

“Yeah, I…I didn’t want to talk about it because he’s your friend and there was that whole letter thing, but, yeah, we had sex.”

“Is that why you broke up?”

“No. It was a little while before that. We both made the decision, and, you know what, I stand by it. It was the right time. And I didn’t die or become a serial killer or let it take over my life.”

“Yeah, but you’ve always been cooler than me.”

Margot snorts a little at that, obviously finding the self-deprecating compliment more funny than she believes she should. “Even if you believe that, that doesn’t mean you’re not cool.”

“That…that makes me feel better, actually. Because…you know, you get me. And I love you. So the fact that I’m not alone…really helps.”

“Of _course_ you’re not alone. Ninety-nine percent of the world feels these things. Having sexual feelings doesn’t make you a bad person; it just makes you a person with sexual feelings.”

And Lara Jean knows she shouldn’t tie her emotional state to other people’s opinions. But hearing this from Margot-pretty much the best person she knows, one of the people she genuinely loves, more than anything in the world-causes all of her built-up feelings of anxiety and doubt to come gushing out in an onslaught of tears.

“No, crap, I’m sorry I’m crying I just—thank you.”

“Hey, this stuff is hard. Cry as much as you need to. I love you. You know that, right?”

The tears stop just enough for Lara Jean to cast a watery smile at the computer’s webcam, “Yeah, I do. I love you, too.”

“You going to be okay?”

“You know, I…yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

And all of the tension of the last few weeks releases; for once in her high school career, Lara Jean finally feels at peace.

* * *

 

The school year is almost over, and Lara Jean and Lucas are comparing notes to study for their upcoming history final.

Lara Jean groans. “I took so many notes, but why do I feel like none of them are going to be helpful?”

“Because Ms. Jamison is a terrible teacher who doesn’t know how to make tests that actually cover the material?”

_Well, he wasn’t wrong._

“I’m just…I’m _good_ at this subject. But I might end up failing this final because she doesn’t know how to teach.”

Lucas faces her and puts a hand on her arm, ever the comforting friend. “Girl. You have the highest grade in this class. If anyone has a chance of getting through his alive, it’s you. Besides, she can’t fail us all.”

Lara Jean knows enough about how mean humanity can get to know that’s not the case, but who is she to crush his hope?

She’s startled out of her morose thoughts by the _ping!_ of her phone that signals a text message.

It’s from Peter.

_-Hey. I miss you. Hope studying is going well. Here’s some notes from that class three weeks ago that you missed._

Confusion colors her face. – _I never asked you to take notes for me._ She types.

- _I know. I just thought it’d be helpful. I know how stressed out this class makes you sometimes._

And just like that, her heart starts beating so loudly and quickly it could substitute as a drummer for one of the rock bands Chris likes to go see in concert sometimes.

_What had she ever done to deserve him?_

- _Thank you. :) <3 _She responds. Because what else is there to say, really? Anything else would probably just embarrass her, given how touched she is by this gesture.

She looks at the attached file, and she’s completely taken aback by how thorough the notes are. Everything is neat, almost perfectly in its legibility. There’s so much content she wonders if he had somehow managed to write down the entire lecture word-for-word. There’s a rudimentary (but still well-ordered) flowchart, every potentially unfamiliar word is defined in painstaking detail, one page is even color-coded.

_Is this how he normally takes notes?_

The idea of Peter Kavinsky, perfectionist note-taker, secret history nerd who color-codes pages and leaves nothing out is…vastly appealing to her. Intelligence is attractive, and caring about important things is attractive, and before she can parse through this new discovery, she feels that weird, all-too-familiar _feeling_ again.

But this time, she doesn’t feel nauseous. Her muscles don’t seize up, and her breathing is only _slightly_ irregular.

 _“Having sexual feelings doesn’t make you a bad person; it just makes you a person with sexual feelings.”_ Margots voice echoes, still fresh in her mind.

Margot. Her sister. The person she aspired to be in so many ways. She’s been right about everything else.

And wouldn’t it be easier to believe her? To stop fretting about this all the time? To allow herself to feel her own feelings?

She remembers what Chris said: “ _Wanting to have sex? Just means that it’s a thing you want. That’s it.”_

And she thinks, maybe, if it’s just a simple want-like good grades or new boots or yogurt smoothies-she can deal with it.

“Hey, you still here?” Lucas asks, probably worried that she’s been zoned out for so long.

“Yeah. Peter’s just…being Peter. He sent me notes from a class I missed.”

“Cool! Shall we…take a look at them?”

“We shall.” She smiles. And the _feeling_ passes.

It is only revisited—very briefly—well into the evening, after Lara Jean has gone home and is brushing her teeth before bed.

She has, for once, pleasant dreams.

* * *

 

Lara Jean doesn’t want to brag or jump to conclusions, but she aced that history final.

And, just like that, the school year is over. It’s an odd feeling, considering that so much has happened. Coming out of her shell, expanding her circle of friends, finally finding out why Gen hated her so much. Her first fake boyfriend. Her first _real_ boyfriend.

_Other firsts…_

She comes home to an empty house. Margot doesn’t get out of school until next week, and her father is chaperoning an overnight museum trip for the Adventure Scouts club that Kitty is in.

Suddenly, she knows how she wants to spend this evening alone.

…By which she means she _doesn’t_ want to spend it alone.

She calls Peter. “Hey are you busy?” she asks, not even waiting for a greeting when he picks up.

“No, why? You okay?”

“I’m fine. Promise. I just…can you come over? I need to tell you something?”

“Uh, okay, sure. You sure you’re okay?”

She can practically _hear_ the smile that starts to form on her face, it’s so loud. “Positive.”

And sure enough, there he is, twenty minutes later.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly once he’s walked in the door, “What’s up, Cov—”

“Come with me.” She takes his hand and leads him up the stairs to her room.

Once she’s shut the door behind her, she turns to him and says, matter-of-factly, “My family isn’t home.”

“Uh. Okay?”

“Margot’s not back until next week, and my dad’s chaperoning this thing for Kitty, so they’ll be gone.”

“Okay, still not following.”

She looks him in the eye, takes a breath to calm herself down. Her nerves are frayed, but this time from general nervousness and excitement, instead of guilt.

“I want to have sex with you. If that’s still what you want.”

Peter’s eyes go wide with shock. But the small, wondrous smile creeping onto his face betrays his elation he feels.

“I’ve thought a lot about this, and…I want it to be you. I want to do this with you. I love you. So much. I’m so tired of feeling bad about wanting this, and…I don’t anymore.”

He gazes softly at her, almost in a stupor, like he can’t believe she’s here and wants him. Bringing his hand up to her check, he whispers three words that make her love him even more. “Are you sure?”

She covers his hand on her face with hers, coaxing his fingers open so she can lightly thread her own through.

And she looks into his eyes, so full of love and awe that she’s sure must be echoed in her own because _wow,_ she loves him _so much_ , and says, more sure of anything than she’s ever been in her entire life,

“Yes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
